Fun and Games
by Wulf-Gurl
Summary: Fifteen year old Ib has readjusted to normal life again. Despite minor hindrances, like the fear of statues, artwork, playing 'loves me, loves me not', as well as a broken promise from Garry, her life is pretty okay. But, much to her dismay, the games aren't over…and, six years ago, Mary was just getting warmed up. Eventual Garry X Ib (Sorry for bad summary; rating may change)
1. Chapter 1

**AN:: Hmmmmmmmm Hello people~! I come forth bearing news of a new story~ C: AN IB FANFIC Because this game is too awesome to not love, and if you haven't play it I will force your face into the computer screen and beat you with a newspaper I Seriously guys, it's free to download and just has an overall amazing story 3**

**ANYWHO. To anybody that actually saw my poll, I made my mind up myself. I've been writing this story nonstop for the past few hours, and have gotten...three chapters :D SO PREPARE FOR MASS UPLOAD. **

_**Story sidenote:**_

**No names are specifically given to Ib's parents, nor are any last names given, so I've come up with some myself. Whether you like them or not is up to you; but they're there, and they shall be there for ever. **

**Ib's last name is Cavanaugh. **

**Ib's mom's name is Nadeen, and her dad's name is Alexander.**

**Garry's last name is Carlisle. **

**Why? Because these are the names I picked.**

**Also, I dunno if this is true or not, but in this story, Ib's family is rich. (I gathered that from what Garry said in the game, how she dresses nicely and whatnot...) And I gave her parents two random jobs that I think are high paying...and if not...who the hell cares~! :D  
**

**Okay, enough babbling. On with the story~!**

Cold black nothingness. That was all she could make out as she ran, lungs screaming for air but refusing to stop. In one hand was a bright, four-petal red rose, tightly held as if her life depended on it, and in the other was the hand of the man in front of her, leading her down corridor after corridor. The man cast worried glanced over his shoulder, and the girl did the same, her eyes falling upon a woman's torso crawling towards them at a heart stopping speed, the bottom half of her body disappearing into a picture frame. Behind the crawling woman was what appeared to be a headless mannequin, its arms stretched out towards the two as they ran.

Laughter echoed from somewhere ahead of them, and the man took a sudden turn, swerving around a large mannequin head that nearly blocked the way. "Run, run, as fast as you can~!" A feminine voice echoed down the halls, followed by another bout of laughter. The man huffed a little, looking down towards the girl, who looked back up at him with wide, worried eyes.

"I-it'll be alright…We just have to hurry…!" He said, trying to give her a reassuring smile, and failing. The girl said nothing, just followed as he dragged her down another corridor…Something slammed into the walls just behind the two as they ran, and the girl closed her eyes…

Another slower laugh rang out over the halls, and when the girl opened her eyes, she was sitting on the floor in a big, blank room, dolls and mannequins and painting women littered the area around her. Just ahead of her she could make out the form of another person, too short to be the man she was with earlier, and saw that it was slowly walking forward, laughing a little. The girl scooted back a little, looking around worriedly. The dolls and mannequins had moved to form a big circle around her and the other figure, growing smaller and smaller as the figure walked closer.

"You shouldn't have gone in that room." The figure said quietly, coming to a stop. The girl could just make out her long blond hair and blue eyes which sparked mischievously. She pulled up the bottom of her green dress, stepping around one of the disturbing dolls, and releasing it again, smiling at the girl. "I told you to leave, and you didn't."

The girl opened her mouth to speak, snapping it shut as the girl in front of her brandished a palette knife with an ominous look in her eyes. "Why didn't you listen?" She asked, tapping the knife to her chin. "Things would have been much simpler if you hadn't gone in there…" She looked thoughtful for a moment, pulling something out from behind her back and holding it up to her face. "…We could've been really good friends, like how you and Garry were…" Her eyes narrowed and her mouth twitched into a frown for a moment, evaporating into a pleasant smile. "But that's okay; we can be friends now, since Garry is out of the way." She tossed the unknown object towards the girl, and she picked it up, staring in a mixture of shock and horror at it.

It was the stem of a rose, only a small fragment of blue petal left on it.

"He was just getting in the way." The blond haired girl said, shaking her head with a sigh. "But now we can be friends forever and ever!"

"Wh-where's Garry?" The girl asked, her voice quivering with mixed fear, anger, and sadness. The blond girl's eyes darkened and she lowered her head, hiding her face behind her bangs.

"Why do you care so much about Garry?" She asked suddenly, looking back up with tearful eyes. "Why don't you care about me?"  
"You're not real!" The girl yelled, standing up, rose stem clutched in hand.

"Yes I am!" The blond girl screamed, stomping her foot. The whole floor shook, red cracks forming under her feet, and the dolls moved back, making the circle bigger. From behind her back the blond girl pulled out a red rose, a dark smirk on her face, and the girl's eyes widened in horror.

"Th-that's mine…!" She said, flinching as the other girl grabbed one of the petals and tugged a little.

"Well it's mine now. One of my friends found it and gave it to me." She replied smugly, giving another tiny tug. "Maybe you should have been more careful with it if you didn't wanna lose it." She turned her gaze up towards the other girl, her smile widening, and pulled, plucking the petal from the flower. A sharp pain jabbed the girl in the stomach and she gasped, doubling over a little with a small groan.

"P…please, don't…!" She whimpered, holding up a hand towards the blond girl. She simply smiled back, plucking another petal and letting it drop as the girl fell to her knees in pain.

"We could've been best friends." She said quietly, pulling another petal and dropping it. "We could've had so much fun together, in the real world…but you chose Garry instead." She plucked another petal, letting it drop to her feet. The other girl whimpered, curling up into a ball on the ground and holding her head between her hands. She slowly turned her paled face up towards the blond girl, tears falling from her eyes.

"M-Mary…Please…" She whispered, choking back a sob. "Please…."

"Goodbye, Ib." Mary replied sweetly, taking the palette knife, and pointedly slicing off the whole top of the flower. Pain seared through her whole body, and she opened her mouth to scream, no sound coming out of her. She felt as if she was falling into dark waters, deeper, deeper, deeper…

_Fwump!_

"Ib!"

Ib's eyes shot open and she sat up abruptly, moaning a little as pain throbbed through her head. Opening her eyes, she was greeted with the familiar sight of her room, the white carpet and walls a welcoming change from the darkness of her nightmare. She sat still, staring at the carpet for a few long moments before realizing she was on the floor beside her bed, her legs tangled up in her beige comforter.

She rubbed her eyes, untangling her legs from the blanket and standing up, suppressing a yawn as she did so. "Ib!" The girl turned to see a woman standing in the doorway, her long brown hair pulled into a tight bun, brownish-red eyes wide with surprise and worry. "I heard something heavy hit the floor, are you alright?" She asked, looking around.

"I feel off the bed, that's all." Ib mumbled, turning away with a small sigh. "But I'm fine, mom. Thank you."

"…Alright." The woman replied after a few long moments, turning away. "…Hurry and get ready, we've got some errands to run before the exhibit." Ib nodded, turning her attention away from the door, and listened as her mom closed the door and started away through the hall, down the steps… Once she was sure that her mother was a ways away, she dropped to her knees, reaching under her bed and pulling out a small shoebox.

She glanced over her shoulder one last time before crawling onto the bed and crossing her legs, setting the box down in front of her and opening it. Inside were a number of small things, such as pictures she'd drawn years ago and a few small things, such as a piece of lemon candy and a fake red rose. Pulling up all of the pictures, she looked through them for what was at least the five hundredth time, her expression growing sadder and sadder as she went on. One of them was a crayon drawing of one of the painting women, with sharp teeth and bright red eyes. Another was of the mannequin heads, red streaks of what she thought to be blood coming down from their eyes.

The pictures progressed in quality, going from sloppy crayon drawings to neat paintings, and finally to beautiful pencil sketches. She reached the last picture and stopped, staring at it for a few long minutes. It was a pencil drawing of two roses, the stems entwined with one another and a hand holding each one, the smaller of the hands holding the stem to a beautiful red rose, the bigger holding the stem to the elegant blue rose.

Ib sat, staring at the picture for a long while, before sighing, dropping it back into the box with the other pictures, and pulling out the piece of candy. She stared at it for a while, reading the wrapper over and over, her mind beginning to wander. _…I wonder if Garry still remembers me…_she thought, putting the candy back into the box.

"Ib, we'll be late if you don't hurry!"

"I'm coming, mom!" Ib called, putting the lid back onto the box and stuffing it under her bed. She quickly grabbed a pair of socks and slipped them on, running to her closet and peeking inside. Grabbing the first thing she saw – a blue coat dress with gold buttons – and pulled it off the hanger, shaking her head a little. Her mom really had high standards when it came to fashion…

From her dresser drawer she pulled out a black undershirt and shorts, slipping them on before putting the coat dress on, and running down the stairs, pulling a hairbrush through the tangled mop of brown hair on her head. "Ib, hurry up!" Her mom called from the kitchen. Rolling her eyes a little, Ib ran into the living room, grabbing a pair of short black heeled boots and slipping them on. From the nearby coffee table she grabbed a sketchbook and pencil before running into the kitchen, where her mom stood, putting squinting into a small makeup mirror as she put lipstick on.

"Ready?" She asked, snapping it shut as Ib came to a stop beside her. She wore a dark red pant suit, with shiny red high heels. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, a few loose strands tucked away behind her ears. Ib nodded, holding the sketchbook with both arms, and followed her mom out of the house, through the walk up garden, and towards the black limousine at the end of the walkway.

_Sometimes I wonder how mom would cope without all the money…_Ib thought, smiling to herself a little. Her mom wasn't really as bad as she was made out to be; the only thing she spends tons and tons of money on is fashion…and the limousine driver…and the huge house…_How much money do we even have?_ Both her mom and dad were owners of huge corporations (her mom worked in fashion – who would've guessed? – and her dad worked with a computer program company, or something like that…) and made a lot of money, but the majority of it went to charities…at least, that's what her mom told Ib.

"Where are we going?" Ib asked, turning to her mom, who was talking to the limo driver, Mark.

"First we need I need to run some papers into work, then we have to get you a new outfit for tonight." She replied. Ib groaned, rolling her eyes.

"But I've got dozens of perfectly good outfits I could wear, I don't need -"

"Tonight's a special occasion, sweety. I want you to have a nice, new dress for it." Her mom cut in.

"But I'll only be wearing it like, once…"

"Not necessarily. You can wear it whenever you'd like." Ib sighed again, sliding into the limo as Mark came around and opened the door for her.

"Thank you." She said quietly, flipping through the pages in her sketchbook, coming to a stop on a half finished sketch. It was a young man and woman, standing side by side in a picture frame, holding hands, while a girl near at the bottom of the paper dug a knife into the bottom of the picture. All three of them held roses, the man – who had short purple hair that covered his left eye, and wore a long tattered coat - held a blue rose, the woman – who had long brown hair and bright red eyes, wearing a dress shirt and skirt - held a red one, and the girl in the bottom – who wore a dark green dress, her long blond hair obscuring her eyes from view - held a yellow one. All she needed to do was finish the design on the picture frame, and this picture would be done…

"What is that a picture of?"

Ib jumped a little, instinctively hiding the picture, and looked up at her mom, who was looking over her shoulder. "I dunno." She replied.

"Can I see it?" Ib hesitated, staring back at her mom for a long moment, before nodding, dropping the book and handing it to her. "Well…this is supposed to be you, isn't it?" She asked, pointing at the brown haired woman. Ib nodded slowly, a small blush creeping across her face. "Then who's this guy?"

"Someone." Her mom looked at her, smiling a little, and nodded, the subject clearly not going to be forgotten for a while.

"And who is this…?"

"…A jealous girl."

"Why is she jealous?"

"Because she isn't real, and she wants to be." Ib's mom narrowed her eyes and gave her a confused look, and Ib just shrugged, moving to take the book back, but her mom pulled it away, flipping through the pages.

"This one reminds me of one of Guertena's works." She said, holding the book down for Ib to see. She'd stopped on a picture of a hand holding a rose, the petals plucked and leaving the stem bare. The petals were scattered around the hand, and long thorn covered vines crept up the hand and off the page. Written above it was the title _Embodiment of Spirit_, and below was a small saying;

_When your rose withers, so too will you wither away._

"It was inspired by Guertena's Embodiment of Spirit sculpture." Ib mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck uncomfortably. Ib's mom nodded, flipping pages again, and Ib looked over her shoulder at each picture. She stopped on a picture of another few roses before handing the book back to Ib, smiling.

"You're an amazing artist already, Ib." She said, smiling. The window that separated the back of the limo from the front slid down, and the driver turned around, clearing his throat a little.

"We're here, Mrs. Cavanaugh." He called. Ib's mom nodded towards him, opening the door before turning back to look at Ib.

"You can stay in the car if you'd like. I'll only be a minute." She said, closing the door behind her. Ib stared at the door for a minute before looking back down at her sketchbook, and opening to the unfinished picture again, and staring at his face.

…_Garry…_

Flipping through the pages, she stopped on one near the back, smiling a little. It was a headshot portrait of him. He was smiling, his visible eye looking straight ahead. In his hand he held a piece of lemon candy, an almost exact replica of the one he'd given to her…She closed the book, putting her face in her hands as sadness threatened to overtake her.

_You promised…_she thought, tears forming in her eyes. She remembered it all very clearly; talking with him in front of the rose sculpture…both of them regaining their memories of the Fabricated World…He even offered to keep her handkerchief until he could return it in better condition…_You promised we'd see each other again. You lied…_

"Alright, let –Ib! What's wrong?" Ib looked up abruptly, surprised to see her mom sliding back into the limo across from her. She shook her head, wiping away the lone tear that'd escaped, and averted her gaze, trying her hardest to keep from hiccupping and sobbing.

"I'm fine…just…just thinking." She said, straining to keep her voice even.

"Ib, please, I can see something is bothering you."

"I'm fine." Ib repeated, taking a deep breath. "I just…I was thinking of a movie." She said, a little happy for the excuse. Her mom stared at her with narrowed eyes, concern evident in her gaze, before she shook her head, sighing.

"Alright. Mark, could you take us to the clothing store on East 14th?"

"Yes Ma'am." Mark replied. Ib pulled the sketchbook up to her chest, turning her gaze to the window and staring out at the passing stores, trying to push Garry (unwillingly) out of her mind.

As far as she knew, she'd never even see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:: Another chapter because I'm cool.**

**Don't forget to R&R~! 3**

"What about this one?"

"Mm…I don't like that color."

"Okay…this one?"

"Too frilly."

"This one?"

"_Waaay_ too frilly." Ib's mom sighed, putting another dress back on the rack with a loud _clack!_ Ib bit her bottom lip, shrugging a little. "Can I pick a dress? Please?" Ib pleaded. Her mom gave her a long look, finally sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Alright…but if you pick something too over the top, I'm picking your dress and you won't have a say in it at all."

"Thank you!" Ib said, relieved. Before her mom could say anything else, she took off, hardly looking at any of the dresses she passed, stopping at a rack near the back of the building. She just needed to be away from her mom…shopping for clothes was okay, but her mom felt the need to pull things off the racks because they were 'interesting' or 'cute'. And Ib really did _not_ like half of the things she pulled off. _How does she even own a fashion line? She finds the craziest stuff I've ever seen…_

She idly pulled a few dresses off the rack, looking like she was inspecting them, when really she was just trying to get her mom to look away. She could feel her gaze on her back, watching her as she pulled off a black dress and held it up to herself, then putting it back on the rack with a shake of her head. _I bet she doesn't think I can do stuff for myself…I am fifteen, not five…_She stopped at a different rack, pulling off a dress that actually caught her attention.

It was dark red satin, with medium sleeves that came to her elbows and stopped just passed her knees. A small black band adorned the waist of the dress, and the sleeves and very fringes of the dress were thinner, with see-through rose patterns covering them. She stared at it for a long moment, holding it up to herself, before glancing over at her mom, who was still watching her.

She turned around and walked into the changing room, slipping out of her dress coat and undershirt, and slipped the dress on, turning in circles and inspecting her reflection. She stepped out of the changing room and walked up to her mom, holding the dress out and twirling around. "How about this one?" She asked, stopping and looking at her mom. Her mom, who was looking at a floor length black dress, turned and looked her up and down, cocking her head to the side a little.

"Mmm…maybe, if you wore your black stockings and flats…" Ib nodded, running back to the changing room and changing into her dress coat, handing the dress to her mom, and walking to a small accessory stand, swiveling it around and looking at some of them. She stopped as the headbands turned towards her, and she pulled one of them off the rack. It was red, with a bright red rose on the top. She turned and placed it on the counter beside the dress, giving half a glance up at her mom, who smiled. "Do you have an obsession with roses?" She asked, laughing a little before pulling out her wallet.

Ib said nothing, instead turned and observed the street outside. People bustled around busily, carrying shopping bags or pushing strollers or running to catch a cab. Some people stopped and gave a curious look towards the limo, parked just outside the shop, and glancing inside before continuing on their way. "Let's hurry, Ib. You won't have much time to practice before tonight." Her mom said, handing her the bag with her dress and hairpiece.

"But I've got the song memorized, mom."

"Yes, but it's still best to be thoroughly prepared." She quipped, ushering Ib out of the store and towards the limo. Ib rolled her eyes, crawling into the vehicle and sliding towards her sketchbook, picking it up and starting at the picture frame design again. "Mark, see if you can get us home before four." Ib's mom called up to him.

"Yes Mrs. Cavanaugh." He replied, shifting the car into drive. Ib leaned back and continued to draw, stealing glances at Garry's face. She sighed, giving up as the car swerved a little and almost made her mess up, instead going to stare out the window.

"Where's the gallery at, mom?" Ib asked, turning to look at her. Her mom raised an eyebrow at Ib, looking surprised.

"I told you already, it's at our house."

"Is that why you had dad clearing out the living room and hallways?"

"Yes…didn't I tell you this already?"

"No." Ib shrugged a little, turning her head. She knew it was at their house; she'd known, because she was the one to suggest it. But she was sure her mom didn't remember that. "Why are we letting random people come to our house to look at other people's art?"

"Because, they needed a big place for the gallery, and all other places are either closed or reserved."

"Aren't you worried about them…like, touching our stuff?"

"That's why your dad was clearing out most of our stuff. It's going into the storage room, which will be locked. As well as our bedrooms." Ib nodded again, blinking a little. "Your father stayed home from work today to help them; they're bringing in all the artwork today. Which is another reason why you came to do these errands with me, so you'd be out of their way." Ib said nothing, instead lowered her gaze to the floor. Art Galleries were not a favorite on her list, and she'd rather just stay locked up in her room…

"Don't look too sad, Ib. Don't forget, one of your pictures will be there as well."

"I know…" Ib replied, flinching a little. "Do you think people will like it?"

"Honey, it wouldn't be in the Gallery if people didn't like it." Ib's mom said, smiling softly. The corners of Ib's mouth twitched up into a reluctant smile, quickly disappearing as she thought again of tonight's events. Maybe she could just…hide away for most of the time. It's not like she'd be missed…okay, maybe she would be. But it wasn't like she was the main event at the gallery. The only people to actually notice might be her parents.

The limo came to a stop, and Ib, surprised, looked up to see the garden walkway leading up to the house. "And it's only three forty." Her mom commented, smiling. "Thank you, Mark." She called, waving to him. "Are you going to stay for the gallery?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." He replied, giving Ib a smile. She returned it, grabbing her sketchbook and shopping bag before running inside. She was actually surprised to see many people mulling about, some hanging pictures or setting up sculptures here and there. The living room had been completely cleared out of furniture – minus a grand piano in the corner of the room – replaced instead with velvet ropes that surrounded sculptures and a table with pamphlets in the center of the room.

"Welcome back, Ib." Ib turned to see her dad walking inside, followed by a man, who possibly in his early thirties. "This is Mr. Wyatt Jonson. He's the owner of the gallery." He gestured to the other man, who smiled, and Ib waved a little, blinking. He had a dark brown ponytail on the back of his head, his hair smoothed down with…hair gel, maybe? He wore a bright green shirt and white dress pants…

"It's very nice to meet you, Ib." He said, an Italian accent evident in his voice. "I'm very happy to meet the creator of such a beautiful piece of artwork." Ib blushed a little, smiling and holding her hand out to him.

"It's nice to meet you too." She replied, turning around. "I'm sorry, but I really need to go and get ready."

"Ah, but the gallery doesn't even open until six thirty." Wyatt replied, half to himself. Without another word Ib turned, hurrying down the hall and into her room. Shutting the door behind her, she let out a long sigh, shaking her head a little.

"Art gallery…why couldn't it be a botanical garden, or wine tasting…" She thought, wincing a little. She walked over to the bed and set her stuff down, smoothing her hair and looking at the clock on her bedside table. Three forty-six. With a reluctant sigh she walked out of her room, down the hall a little further, and walked into the study, shutting the door against the noise of the men setting up the art.

The study was a relatively big room, filled with big bookshelves and a few tables here or there. In the far back of the room was a chair and music stand, with a small case beside it. Ib made her way towards the chair, seating herself on it and picking the case up, clicking it open. Inside was a violin, covered in roses of all sizes, varying from red, to blue, and to yellow. _Maybe I do have an obsession with roses,_ Ib thought, smiling to herself.

If only her mother knew.

From inside the case, she pulled out a piece of sheet music, setting it up on the stand, and glancing up at the nearby clock. Three fifty. _I'll practice until five thirty, then get in the shower,_ she decided, putting the violin to her chin, and setting the bow across the strings.

.

.

_Jonson art Gallery_

_Guest featuring 2012 Hampton Art Contest Winner_

_Held at Cavanaugh residence_

_2045 East Meadow Lane_

_March 30__th__, at 6:30 pm_

He stared at the flyer for a few long minutes, his foot tapping a little. Art galleries were certainly not a favorite spot of his…but there was something about this one. Maybe it was the name Cavanaugh? It rang a bell, but he sure as hell didn't know why…

Taking a step forward, he pulled the flyer from the electrical pole, reading it over again. Beneath the title was what looked like a picture of someone's painting…but there was something vaguely familiar about it…it struck him as odd. Maybe he'd seen it somewhere before…?

No. It was too familiar.

_Maybe I should go check it out…_He thought, folding the paper up and putting it into his coat pocket. East Meadow Lane wasn't that far away…plus, he still had a good…two hours before it even started. Turning away, he glanced towards a small dress shop, an eyebrow rising a little. Was that…a limo, parked out front? _Must be some really high class people…_he thought, turning away. The dress shop door opened, and out stepped a young girl, possibly in her teens, followed by a woman that looked strikingly like the younger one.

"…but it's still best to be thoroughly prepared." The mother was saying, opening the door of the limo. The girl rolled her eyes, and the man stopped, staring for a long moment. Were…were her eyes…red? _It couldn't possibly be…no. It's not her,_ he thought, shaking his head. From his pocket he pulled out a handkerchief, watching as the limo pulled away, and looked down at it, running a finger across the lace item. At the very bottom corner was a name, embroidered into the fabric.

_Ib._

He shook his head, putting the handkerchief back into his pocket with a sigh, turning and heading down the street towards a nearby café. Maybe he was just imagining things…_That couldn't possibly have been her._ He stepped into the café, and sat himself down at one of the booths, tapping the table with his hand. The waitress came up and took his order, and he settled back in his seat, staring out the window.

After a few heartbeats he pulled the flyer out of his pocket again, setting it down on the table and staring at it for a long moment. The picture shown below…something clicked in his mind, and he looked out towards the dress shop again, tapping his foot a little.

_...is it possible…that that actually was her…? And this…_He stared at the picture, closing his eyes and stuffing it back into his pocket. Folding his hands together, he watched as the waitress brought him his cup of coffee, dropping off a plate of macaroons as well, and left, giving him a small wink as she did so. He gave her a forced smile in return, adding a few packets of sugar and cream to the coffee and stirring it.

_Could Ib really have been in this town this whole time…?_ He wondered, his eyes narrowing. He had to admit, he had only been there for…a little less than a week, but…surely he would've known if she was in this town? He shook his head, taking a small bite of a macaroon and staring out the window at the sky.

He'd just have to go and see for himself.


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you ready, Ib?"

"I…I think so…" Ib stood in her bedroom, staring down at her sheet music with nervously tapping her violin bow against her hand. She was dressed in her new dress, her hair pulled back into a neat braid, headband sitting atop her head. She mulled around nervously, hearing the chatter and laughter of voices just down the hall, setting her on edge. "How many people are here?" She asked, turning to face her mom.

She was dressed in a beige, floor length dress, her hair pulled into her tell-tale bun, with white high heels. She gave Ib a warm smile, coming up to her and giving her a warm hug. "You'll do fine, Ib. I know you will." She said softly, patting the top of her head. "You've still got about five minutes, why not come look around the gallery a bit?"

Ib visibly winced, shaking her head and turning away a little. "No…I'm fine." She said stiffly, shrugging out of her mom's grasp. Her mom stood there for a few moments before smiling and nodding, leaving the room. Ib stood stiffly until the door had closed, deflating the moment her mom had left the room. She was so sure earlier that she'd be fine…but her stage fright had other ideas. _Just close your eyes, and imagine that they aren't actually there…_she told herself, taking a deep breath and standing up to her full height, brushing herself off.

She grabbed her violin, leaving the sheet music on the bed, and, taking another steadying breath, she turned and opened her bedroom door, stepping into the hallway nervously. She could see people walking around, talking having a glass of wine (courtesy of Wyatt) or snacking on crackers, stopping and admiring pictures and sculptures alike. She stood there stiffly, giving half a thought to go back into her room, taking a step forwards instead and walking out into the living room.

She walked around a group of people, strictly keeping her eyes on the piano in front of her, stopping only as Wyatt stepped in front of her, catching her attention. "Ah, there you are! I was beginning to wonder whether or not you'd be showing up…" He smiled, stepping to the side and ushering her towards the small stool set up beside the piano. He cleared his throat, giving Ib a small wink, before calling everyone's attention to him and Ib.

"Thank you all for coming to my gallery." He started once the noise had died down, and he had everyone's attention. "First off, I'd like to thank Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh for allowing us to use their home for this gallery." There was applause for a few moments, again quieted by Wyatt. "I'd also love to announce that their daughter has prepared a piece of music she wrote herself, and would like to share with you all today." Everyone's attention turned to Ib, and – despite being red-faced with embarrassment and worry – she gave a small bow, smiling a little. Wyatt took a step back, and Ib's mom stepped passed her and to the piano, seating herself and looking at Ib expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, Ib sat herself down on the stool, staring out towards the far wall (which was thankfully blank). "This song is called Garry's Medley." She said firmly, nodding a little. There was complete silence as she placed the instrument under her chin and she tapped her foot, counting off loud enough for her mom to hear. "One, two, ready, go."

.

.

This place was a lot harder to find than he'd first thought.

Standing just outside the garden walkway, he checked the flyer one last time, looking at the address on the mailbox beside him. On the other side of the pathway was a small sign, reading "Jonson Art Gallery Inside." He tapped his chin for a moment, glancing up at the building in question.

It was huge; bigger than even a mansion he'd visited before. Walking forward, he looked around at the garden, pausing beside a rose bush and staring at the red flowers for a long moment, his brow furrowing a little. He walked by them, hurrying up to the door, and slowly peeked inside. Everyone was staring at something to the left, and he walked in, stopping at the back of the crowd and peeking above the people's heads, catching the last word of what whoever was saying.

"…medley." He walked around the crowd to an open space just beside the wall, and turned his attention towards the front again, a little surprised. There sat a girl, her eyes closed and foot tapping, a look of concentration on her face. She wore a beautiful red dress, a red rose hairpiece sitting atop her head…even her violin was covered in roses, the colors making him frown a little. Blue, red, and yellow…just like…

"One, two, ready, go." She murmured, beginning the song. It started slowly, each note long and low, strung out and pulled, slowly growing in speed. The notes began to blend together, growing louder and faster, like a story that was racing towards its climax…The piano joined in a moment later, adding a high undertone, highlighting and making some notes sting longer than others. The piano grew louder, the violin softer, and took over, the low notes crashing together in an odd mesh of notes that came together beautifully. The violin grew in volume yet again, challenging the piano until they were battling for the top, the violin's high notes complimenting the piano's low notes until it came to a sudden harmony. The violin's notes grew higher and higher, reaching a sudden point and bringing the whole music to a complete standstill.

There was silence for a few beats, broken by a low melody from the piano, slowly joined by the violin a moment later, the notes slow and sad, as if defeated…Then turned around, bringing with it another bout of happy tones and blends, the piano keeping a sad undertone to the music, not quite satisfied with the outcome…and finally, the piano stopped, leaving the violin as it slowed, the happiness fading again, the notes slowing and growing in length, before coming to a complete stop.

The girl's eyes opened a little and she blinked, hiding her face for a minute before she stood up and bowed, the crowd erupting in applause. A man walked up onto the stage, his hair slicked back into a tidy ponytail, clapping as well. "That was just marvelous! Garry's Medley, everyone!" The man stood there, completely and utterly shocked. That song…He shook his head, slowly clapping as a smile spread across his face. It even had his name…

He opened his eyes again, narrowing them a little bit. _Wait._ He turned his head up to look at the girl again, having to crane his neck just to see over everyone, managing to view the top of her head. _It can't be…_ "I'd also like to point out, that her artwork is hanging at the end of the left hallway! I recommend everybody at least give it a look!" The man called as the crowd broke up and began to drift away again.

The man slid past a group of women and trotted towards the piano, his brow furrowing as he saw the girl walking away, past a group of kids…He walked past them, following the red rose on her head, trying to weave around crowds…he watched her go into a hallway and quickly followed, stopping at the very end and watching her for a heartbeat, his eyes widening…

.

.

Ib lowered the violin as the song finished, hiding her face for a minute to wipe away a tear she didn't want the crowd to see being shed. She took a deep breath, glad that she didn't play a wind instrument, and opened her eyes, smiling at the crowd as Wyatt walked back onto the stage, clapping. He began to talk, but she didn't hear any of it, her mind elsewhere…

The whole time she was playing, she was thinking of the Fabricated World. Every moment, from when they two met, to finding Mary, solving the puzzles, burning her picture…Every moment of it. The crowd started to disperse, and she excused herself, giving a small nod to her mom before quickly making towards the edge of the crowd, smiling at everybody who praised her music.

She rushed past a group of kids, almost running into the dark hallway leading to her room, slowing down as she stopped just outside of her bedroom door. She stood there for a long minute, contemplating staying shut in her room for the rest of the night, or going out and looking around a little…She opened her bedroom door, closing it gently behind her, and set her violin down on the bed, sighing a little before flopping onto the bed with a huff, burying her face in the blankets for a few minutes.

.

.

He watched her enter her room with a tired sigh, closing the door behind her, and stood stiffly, watching her. She sure as hell looked like her…_What about her eyes, though…_he thought, slowly walking down the hall towards her door. He didn't want to intrude…especially since he wasn't one hundred percent sure this was even Ib. He stopped just outside the door, holding a hand up to knock…then stopping, lowering his hand.

What was he going to say if it wasn't Ib?

What the hell was he going to say if it _was_ Ib?

Sucking in a small breath, he grabbed the doorknob, steeling his mind, and opened the door slowly.

.

.

Ib huffed, pulling herself up into a sitting position on the opposite side of her bed and pulling her headband off, examining the red rose on top. So many memories…so many traumatic moments…so many things she wouldn't be able to share anyone else, lest they throw her into a psychiatric ward…

She heard her doorknob turn, and sighed, closing her eyes a little as the door creaked open. "I don't want to come look at the art, mom. Please, just -" Ib started, turning towards the door. Her voice came to an abrupt halt as she stared at the man in the doorway, her mind going completely blank. "Y…you…" She tried to talk, standing up and turning towards the door with wide eyes.

It was him.

But it _couldn't_ be him…!

But there was no mistaking it. He still had his lavender hair, now longer and pulled into a ponytail, the bangs covering his left eye, darker streaks running through it from the top of his head…He wore the same tattered coat she remembered, with a white dress shirt and black slacks underneath. His blue eyes showed the same confusion and suspicion she felt.

"…G…G-Garry…?" She finally said, breaking the small silence that fell across the room. He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out…a white lace handkerchief, extending it towards her.

"I told you we'd meet again." He said quietly. Ib stared at the handkerchief, her eyes tracing the two letters embroidered into the fabric, before she looked back up at him, tears forming in her eyes. She swerved around the bed, running at him, and almost tackled him out of the room, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his shirt, a sob shaking her shoulders. Garry smiled, holding back tears of his own, returning the hug with a pat to the head.

_It's really him._

**AN:: I hope the music part is okay...I wanted to describe the music, but I had a lot of trouble...if it sounds weird, then I'm sorry w;**

**Don't Forget to R&R~!**

***butpleasedontmockthemusicpart***


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:: Okay, I may slow down on updates a little bit after this chapter...probably overwhelming a few people X'DD But what can I say? When I love a story, I write it continuously~! (Until I get distracted or something...*shrug*)**

**Anywho, this is a long chapter o.o; Oh well~**

**Enjoy~!**

It was really him. She could hardly believe it. After so many years…He was back_. _

After a few moments of happy tears and barely suppressed sobs, Ib calmed down, refusing to let go of Garry's waist. He'd managed to maneuver them to the bed and sat down, moving the violin out of the way, holding her awkwardly as she pressed her face against his chest.

"Ib, you can let go now…" He said, patting her head again.

"No I can't." She said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"Why not?"

"If I do, you'll leave, and you won't come back for another six years." Garry's shoulders slumped a little and he winced, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he was staring into Ib's bright red eyes, still puffy from the tears she'd shed. "Why were you gone for so long…?" She asked, her voice quiet. Garry shifted uncomfortably, looking away. He really hadn't wanted this topic to come up so soon…but it had to come up sooner or later. _Maybe sooner was better than later, anyways._

"After I went home from Guertena's Gallery, my schoolwork kind of built up, and I was buried in it for a long time…I hadn't thought to ask your last name, which only made finding you again a lot harder…And a few months after that, my friends were going on a trip to Spain and wanted me to go with them. We ended up staying there for three years." He stopped, staring off into space for a long moment before shaking his head. "Once I got back, I tried to find you, but never really got anywhere…looked in neighboring towns, and even visited a few art galleries, just in case you'd gone to any others." He shrugged, waving an idle hand. "Finding you today was either a stroke of luck, or it's just…fate."

Ib stared up at him for a few long minutes, a small smile crossing her face, and she hugged him harder, closing her eyes. "You came; that's all that matters." She murmured. Garry smiled, patting her back before slowly pushing her off of him so he could stretch a little.

"Jeez, you've grown a lot since last I saw you." He commented. Ib raised an eyebrow at him, her cheeks reddening as she gave him a scrutinizing look. "I mean, you've gotten…taller." Garry said, shaking his head a little.

"You look like you haven't grown at all." Ib replied. "Well, besides the hair, and the clothes…And you've kept your coat at least." Garry smiled, patting the coat.

"Yeah…too many memories for me to throw away." He said, his eyes getting a faraway look. Ib nodded a little, smiling and glancing at the fringes of her bedspread.

"You actually look like you shrunk a little." Ib cut into his thoughts, laughing a little. He gave a curious look, raising an eyebrow, and Ib stood up, pulling him to his feet as well. "Last time I saw you, you were like…as tall as my dad. And now I'm almost as tall as you."

"Probably because you've grown up a little. You know, there's a major height difference between ages nine and fifteen."

"You know how old I am?" Ib asked, surprised. Garry nodded.

"Of course, how could I forget?" Ib averted her gaze for a moment, biting her tongue and looking back up at him.

"How old are you, then? Now that I think about it, you never said whenever we were in the Fabricated World…"

"Well, I was fourteen back then. Can you guess how old I am now?" He asked.

"Twenty…?"

"Well, to be technical, I'm nineteen, but I turn twenty in four months." He said, shrugging.

"Jeez, you're an old man!" Ib replied, laughing. Garry opened his mouth to reply, stopping as Ib's door opened, and they both turned to see Ib's mom in the doorway, smiling.

"Ib, don't you want to…" She started, stopping as her gaze fell on Garry. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth formed into a hard line, her arms crossing over her chest. "Ib…who is this?" She asked stiffly, turning her head a little.

"Mom, this is my friend Garry." Ib replied, standing up, then turned to face Garry. "Garry, this is my mom, Nadeen."

"Garry Carlisle. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cavanaugh." Garry replied, standing and walking towards her to offer his hand to her. Ib's mom stared at him stiffly, keeping her arms crossed, and from behind Garry Ib gave her a long glare, biting her bottom lip.

"How old are you, Garry?" She asked, finally taking his hand.

"I 'm nineteen, ma'am." Garry replied coolly.

"…And how do you know my daughter?"

"We met at Guertena's gallery a few years ago." He replied, waving his hand. "She couldn't read some of the titles, so I helped her…I got a little too cocky, though, and touched the Embodiment of Spirit sculpture, making myself bleed. Ib offered me her handkerchief, and I told her I'd have it returned to her as soon as possible." Ib blinked in surprise, keeping a straight face. _Man, he's good at lying…_she thought, furrowing her brow.

"Hm…Then why didn't you return it to her sooner?" Her mom replied tartly.

"My schoolwork kept me at home a lot, as well as a summer trip to Spain that ended up lasting a good three years…I hadn't even had the thought to ask for Ib's last name back then, which was quite a stupid move on my part."

"How'd you find us tonight, then?" She asked. Ib was surprised to hear that she sounded genuinely curious.

"I'm not really sure, ma'am." Garry said, shrugging. "Maybe it's just a freak coincidence." Her mom nodded, turning to look down at Ib, who gave her a reassuring smile in return.

"Why are you in her room, then?"

"My fault. I mistook her room for the bathroom." Garry replied, sounding a tad embarrassed. _He's _really_ good at lying. Maybe I should be worried…_Ib's mom nodded, puckering her lips a little, before she looked down at Ib, her eyes softening a little.

"Change out of your dress into something more comfortable, dear. I don't want you to miss out on the gallery." She said. Giving one last look towards Garry, she turned, ready to leave, but stopped in the doorway with a small knowing smile. "You should ask her about her sketches, Garry. She seems to draw you a lot." She called, giving Ib a look, before closing the door behind her.

Ib's face went red as Garry turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Sketches of me?" He asked, blinking. "Were you hoping that the picture would come to life?" He joked, his smile seeming a little forced. Ib nodded, a little hesitantly, before reaching under her bed, pulling out her sketchbook, anxiety curling in her stomach. She hadn't really been prepared to show these drawings to anybody…but Garry was a close friend, so…it was okay…

Sitting back down on the bed, she opened the sketchbook, handing it to Garry, who took it and examined each picture curiously, Ib watching him and the book from over his shoulder. The first few pictures were of roses, both in full bloom and some wilted, lone flowers or big bouquets, ranging in a wide variety of colors, the majority of them focusing around red and blue. The roses changed to portraits, one of Ib herself, one of her mom and dad, and one of Gary, holding a blue rose in hand; he paused at this one, staring at it for a few long moments before flipping the page.

The next few pages were a picture-progression of Ib, starting from infancy all the way to adulthood. "And you really drew all of these?" Garry asked after a moment, inspecting the fully grown Ib drawing. She nodded slowly, biting her bottom lip as he turned the page. It was the yet to be finished drawing, of the man and woman picture (obviously Ib and Garry), the girl at the bottom digging the knife into the picture frame. Garry paused on this one, stiffening a little as he stared at the blond haired girl's rose.

"…This is Mary?" He asked after a moment. Ib nodded, sitting back and swinging her feet off the bed.

"I felt really bad for her after what happened." She explained, swinging her feet a little. "I mean, all she wanted was to be in the real world…"

"But she tried to kill us."

"Yeah…I know." Ib sighed, shrugging. "I think she was jealous of us because we were from the real world, while she was just…stuck. Never having even the opportunity to see the real world, aside from what she already knew…if she knew anything about it, to begin with." She let her shoulders sag a little and she averted her gaze. "I can't help but feel that we would've been really good friends, if she wasn't the way she was…"

Garry nodded slowly, flipping a few pages and coming across the Embodiment of Spirit picture. "When your rose withers, you too will wither away…" Garry mumbled, staring at the picture curiously. "Whose hand is that?" Garry asked, looking up at Ib as she shrugged a little.

"I dunno…it wasn't supposed to be anybody specific." She said, glad that she hadn't colored the picture. In reality it was supposed to be Garry, but she'd changed her mind halfway through, leaving it uncolored and open for interpretation. Garry nodded yet again, flipping through the rest of the pages.

"Are the rest of these blank?" He asked, blinking a little as he pulled the rest of the pages up. "Wait, I think I passed one…"

"No wait! Don't look at that one!" Ib said suddenly, her eyes widening. She tried to snatch the book away, but Garry put a hand up to her chest, holding the book away at arms length. Ib sat back, blushing furiously, hiding her face in her hands. She knew exactly which picture he was looking at…it was the only fully colored picture in the book.

She looked between her fingers to see Garry looking at the picture closely now, his expression unreadable. The picture was of a wedding; the groom – dressed in a white suit tinted with blue – was carrying the bride – dressed in a white wedding dress tinted with red. The bride's long brown hair was pulled into a braid that came over her shoulder, a red rose adorning the top of her veil, red eyes bright with happiness and a bouquet of red roses held in hands. The groom's purple hair was pulled back into a shaggy ponytail, his blue eyes trained on the bride's face, a blue rose on his jacket. White rose petals fluttered around the two, and sunshine shone down from the top corner of the picture.

Ib buried her face in her hands again, aware of Garry's curious eyes on her, her face reddening further (if that was even possible.) "I-I had a dream about…about this scene…and I wanted to draw it b-before I forgot." Ib stuttered, peeking out between her fingers once more to see Garry, his face pink, watching her. He suddenly started to laugh, catching Ib off guard and making her eyes widen a little. "It's not funny!" She whined, punching him in the shoulder and taking back the sketchbook.

"I wasn't making fun of the picture, Ib." He said, smiling. "I just think it's a really…cute picture and idea." He shrugged, standing up and stretching. "I'm sure your mom will be mad if we're in here any longer." Ib nodded, standing up and pushing him towards the door.

"Out you go, then!" She quipped, pushing him into the hallway and slamming the door behind him. She took a deep breath, leaning against the door with a heavy sigh, pulling the ponytail out of her hair and undoing her braid. _I'm never letting anybody look at my sketchbook again…_She thought, huffing. She stood up and ran to her closet, picking through the clothes while brushing out her hair. She settled on another dress and pulled it off the hanger, examining it. It was much like the outfit she'd been wearing to Guertena's gallery; with a white top, with a loose black belt looping around the middle and a red skirt that stopped just above her knees.

Slipping out of her dress, she slipped into the new one, pulling the tights off and putting on a pair of black shorts, knee high black socks, and putting her black flats back on. She checked her hair in the mirror before opening her door, surprised to see her dad standing in the hall, chatting with Garry. "Hey Ib." Her dad said, nodding to her as she shut the door behind her. Garry raised an eyebrow at her, brandishing a hand towards her outfit with a small smile. Ib shrugged. "I was just talking with your friend Garry here…quite the guy."

"Mmhmm…quite the guy." Ib commented, snickering with a roll of her eyes.

"It was nice talking to you, Mr. Cavanaugh, but -"

"Please, call me Alexander." Ib's dad cut in, and Garry smiled a little, nodding.

"It's been nice talking with you, Alexander, but I promised Ib I'd look around the gallery with her." He finished, shaking his hand. Ib turned and started down the hall with Garry following, glancing over her shoulder at her dad, who watched with a smile on his face, his eyes showing some unknown emotion.

"Well, you got along with him better than I would've thought." Ib commented as the two made their way through the living room.

"Yeah…except for the part where he told me he'd hurt me if I hurt you in any way." He said, keeping a straight face. Ib looked up at him, shaking her head.

"Yeah, he's kinda…overprotective of me."

"That's understandable, but he was talking to me as if I was your boyfriend." Ib laughed, patting his arm a little.

"Don't worry, he knows I'm smart enough to not date old men!" She shook her head, looking back up at him. "No, he said the same thing to a friend I had a few years ago."

"What happened to your friend?"

"He moved to…Kansas, I think?" Ib shrugged again. "Somewhere around there…but he was getting on my nerves a little, anyways. Kept trying to ask me out, and stuff. Just -" Ib stopped, realizing that Garry wasn't at her side, and turned around, seeing him staring up at one of the sculptures. She walked back to him and looked up at it as well, blinking a little.

It was of a woman, her legs and part of her torso submerged in water, holding onto a rose, the petals falling and drifting away across the water. The woman, who looked like Ib, was crying, the rose almost completely gone. "It's called Wither." Ib said after a moment. "My mom had it made for my fourteenth birthday."

"So this piece is yours?"

"Mmhmm."

"So, how rich are you guys then?" Garry asked with a laugh, turning away. Ib shrugged, glancing at a portrait of a huge field.

"I dunno, but most of our money goes to charities and other things."

"And the rest?"

"Personal use, I guess? I don't know." The two fell silent, wandering around and stopping to look at a few pictures and sculptures here or there. More people had showed up somewhere along the line, and video recordings of Ib's song were being played over and over on a flat screen tv in some unknown room, with speakers playing the music in every room.

"That really was a beautiful song you played." Garry said as the song ended, only to begin again. Ib ducked her head a little, smiling.

"Thank you."

"Was naming it after me intentional?"

"Yeah…I thought of calling it the Fabricated World, then calling it Mary's Medley…but then I just settled for Garry's Medley." Garry nodded, and Ib looked around, seeing the lit hallway opposite of the one leading to her room. "You haven't seen my picture yet, have you?" She asked. Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed his hand, leading him down the hall, stopping a little ways from the end with a smile on her face.

She was actually proud of this painting.

It was a picture of two silhouettes running one much taller than the other, holding each others hand, a rose clutched in their other hands. Behind them was another figure, outlined in white, seated on the ground, the bottom part of her body turning to ash and being blown away. Behind her was a burnt portrait, the last few fragments still glowing with fire and embers. A doll stood by the girls side, arms wrapped around her elbow, worry etched onto its horrid face. The picture was black on that end, gradually fading to white, where the two figures were running. The majority of the picture was black and white, aside from the roses (red and blue respectively).

Ib stared up at the picture for a long time, turning to look at Garry, who looked shocked. "Jeez, Ib…You drew this?" Ib nodded, turning back to the picture. Written on the plaque just beneath it was the title; _Escape into Reality._ "You'd think that after Guertena's gallery, you'd want to stay as far away from art as possible…"

Ib shrugged. "After that whole incident, I couldn't stop drawing what I'd seen, and what happened…mostly because I wanted to get it out of my head, but…I dunno. It just kind of…progressed. I came to like drawing. Art galleries still freak me out, but I guess I've come to at least be in the same room as it." Garry stared at the picture for a long time, leaning forward to get a better look, before turning around with a small smile, leading Ib away.

"So, you said something about visiting a few art galleries in hopes of finding me." Ib commented. "Anything interesting happen?"

"Don't even get me started." Garry said, laughing. "My friends went to the first one with me, one somewhere…a few towns away. I asked about any guest logs, but they couldn't give me any information, so I decided to explore around a little bit. All of my friends were staring at this one painting, and when I went up to it, it was one of Guertena's works; the…what's it called…I dunno, the headless mannequins." His face pinked a little and he rubbed the back of his neck. "My friends quite literally had to carry me out of that place, I was panicking so badly."

"Whenever I was eleven I went to work with my mom one day, who works in fashion, and freaked out whenever I saw the mannequins everywhere. Most of them were headless, and I was carried out of the place screaming." Ib countered, laughing. The two stopped beside the 'Wither' sculpture, and Garry turned around and said something, but Ib wasn't listening. Something had caught her attention…

She looked down the far hallway, her eyes narrowing a little bit. The hallway was dark, but…but she could see a picture down there. They didn't have any pictures in that hallway…"Hold on a second, Garry." She muttered, walking past him. She slowed halfway through the hall and stopped, staring at the picture worriedly. It was…familiar, but too dark to really see…She walked all of the way up to the picture and stared at it with squinted eyes.

It was a portrait, of…

The lights flicked on, making Ib jump a little, but she couldn't tear her horror-stricken gaze away from the picture. "Ib, what are you…" Garry started, his voice trailing off as he too looked up at the picture. "Holy shit…that's…" He started, his voice failing him. This wasn't a part of Wyatt's gallery. This wasn't her mom's or dad's picture. This…she couldn't explain how it got here, or what it was doing…

She slowly reached a hand up and ran her fingers along the plaque underneath the picture.

_Mary._

"I've got a bad feeling about this…" Garry muttered.

There was a small buzzing sound, and Ib's gaze shot upwards, her eyes widening further. The lights were flickering. "No…no, no this can't be happening…" She stuttered, whipping around. There was silence out in the living room. Pushing past Garry, she ran out there, eyes wide.

Everybody was gone. "No…" Ib stared in complete shock, her eyes flitting around the emptiness of the room. "No, please…" Garry ran past Ib this time, running to the front door and grabbing it, pulling. It was locked. Ib ran to the back door and tried to pull, finding it locked as well. Something grabbed her shoulder and she screamed, relieved to see it was just Garry. His eyes were wide and he was straining to keep himself calm as he looked around.

"There's got to be a reasonable answer for all of this." He said, looking around. "I mean…This can't be…" Ib shook her head, grabbing Garry's hand and leading him towards the living room.

"M…Maybe they all went outside, or something." Ib muttered, stopping as water seeped up from the carpet. Looking up, she saw the 'Wither' sculpture to her right, water leaking out from the base of it. She watched as the picture of the field moved, the grass and flowers swaying in the nonexistent breeze. She stared at it for a long while, her mind whirling. A picture somewhere behind her crackled a little, and Ib put her hands to her head, falling to her knees.

"This can't be happening…this can't be happening…" She murmured, shaking her head as she spoke.

"Ib. Ib, get up." Garry pleaded quietly, taking her shoulders gently. "I'm sure that this is just…a hallucination. It can't be anythi…" His voice trailed off, and Ib looked up at him. He was staring at something behind her, his face a mask of horror. Slowly Ib turned around, her eyes widening a little.

A long portrait was hanging on the wall just behind her, covering the entire space up completely. Dark colors swirled around on the canvas, mixing and blending together in odd ways. Slowly, Ib shakily stood up, walking towards the huge picture and staring up at it, much like she had done those many years ago. She didn't even need to look at the plaque to know what the picture was.

"The Fabricated World." Ib whispered, half to herself than anything.

There was the sound of paint splattering nearby, and Ib looked down to see sloppily written words on the wall, written in blue paint.

_ComE PlaY WiTH meeE…_

More paint splatter sounds, and Ib turned to see footsteps leading towards the 'Wither' sculpture, where Garry sat, staring at the water. "Garry." Ib murmured, her hands shaking violently. "This…this is…"

Another paint splatter, and Ib turned to see neater hand writing on the wall, written in red paint.

_Come along, Ib, Garry. That is, if you want to see your parents again…_

_- M_

Ib turned around slowly, facing Garry with a hardened expression, fighting back tears. "We have to go." She whispered to him, walking towards the sculpture.

"Are you crazy?!" Garry almost yelled, jumping to his feet and grabbing Ib's wrist. "The last time we were in the Fabricated World, Mary tried to kill us! And…and…" His demeanor faltered as Ib stared back at him evenly, biting her bottom lip.

"She's threatening my parents, Garry." She said simply, walking towards the sculpture again, pulling Garry with her. More writing covered the wall behind it.

_Hop in, the water feels great…_

Ib tried to pull her hand out of Garry's grasp, turning when he only tightened his grip. "If we both jump in without holding onto each other, we might lose one another." He said simply, walking up to her side. Ib stared down at the water, her fear rising, before taking a deep breath, and, on Garry's mark, jumped into the freezing dark water.

"_Let the games begin."_


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:****: Oops I accidentally puzzled. It is actually REALLY hard to come up with my own puzzles...and I guess I didn't think that through whenever I decided to make this Fanfic WHOOPSIE DAISIES. Oh well~**

**Also, this chapter is kinda short...meh. I actually had writers block a little ways into it, because I wanted Ib to have a freakout because of the Fabricated World and everything...yeah. Logical? I don't know. **

**Anywho!**

**If you guys want to help me with ideas for puzzles and sculptures and whatnot, I'm totally open for them :D If you'd like to help, send me a PM, and I'll give credit~ C: (No I'll take all the credit, being like 'YEAH I DID THIS MMKAY MMKAAAYY?)**

**Okay. Enough rambling. Here ya go, chapter away~**

**Don't forget to R&R~! 3**

It felt as if Ib had submerged herself into ice. Shudders ran down her back as she and Garry sank farther and farther, their surroundings growing darker and darker…Ib's eyelids grew heavy, and she felt her grip on Garry's hand loosening. Strange patterns and lights began to swirl and dance across the water above, dizzying, mesmerizing, intoxicating…"Ib!" Ib heard her name being called, but didn't move; she felt Garry's grip tighten on her wrist, weighing her down…

Was Garry sinking faster than she was? Were they still drifting away? Everything was pitch-black now, aside from the occasional pattern flitting around, and she was having trouble telling whether or not her eyes were open…What was happening? She heard Garry yelling…at least, she thought it was Garry; it was hard to think straight…His grip loosened again, and finally disappeared, with another yell of either frustration or fear…wait, was that…light? It was far away…and…no wait. It was everywhere, now…

Something slammed into Ib's back, and she gasped, sitting up abruptly and coughing up mouthfuls of water. Opening her bleary eyes, she looked around with a frown, realizing that she was in a dark room, on the floor. The walls, ceiling, and even the floors all dark black…it was hard to tell where the floor stopped and walls started. Ib sat there for a moment, wringing out her dress skirt with a shiver, before slowly standing, turning in a circle to survey the surroundings.

_I don't…I don't understand how…we destroyed Mary's portrait…!_ Ib thought, wincing. _She can't be back…It isn't possible, we watched her disappear…_

"G-Garry?" She called, rubbing her hands across her arms with another shiver. "Are you here?" There was no answer, and Ib worriedly started to walk around, running a hand along the wall. It looked like it was a small hallway, a blank picture frame adorning each end wall. At both ends of the hall was a door, and Ib tested the one at the left end. Locked.

_Is this…just like the Fabricated World from before? _Ib thought, staring at the doorknob for a long while. _Maybe it's changed…Hopefully, it's changed…_Walking to the other end, she tested the other door as well.

Locked.

"Well what am I supposed to do if both of the doors are locked?!" Ib yelled, stomping a foot in frustration. If this was Mary's way of trying to scare her, then she really wasn't doing a good job…She stared at the door for a long minute, turning to look at the blank picture at her side. She stared at it for a long few minutes before walking towards it and looking at the plaque, which read 'More than Meets the Eye'_._ Ib took a step back and stared at the picture. _If there were puzzles the last time, then there's sure to be more now…_she thought idly, tilting her head as she stared. _Mmm…maybe…maybe if I…_She stepped forward, touching the canvas and rubbing her hand along it. She could feel something…

She huffed, pulling the picture off the wall and tilting it backwards. Written in light gray letters, only a tiny bit darker than the white canvas, were the words 'bottom' and 'door'. Ib frowned, leaning the picture against the wall and turning towards the other. Doing the same thing with the other picture, she found the words 'of' and 'right'. "Bottom, door, of, right…Bottom of right door?" Ib thought aloud, walking to the other end of the hall. Crouching down, she looked around the bottom of the door, feeling the carpet, then the door panels…One of the panels was a little more loose than the others, and Ib pushed it in a little.

_Click!_

Standing, she grabbed the doorknob and turned, happy to find it unlocked. _Well, that wasn't as hard as it could've been…_She thought, opening the door. Inside was a small, circular room, with dark blue walls and a black floor and a sculpture resting against the far wall. Ib stepped into the room and examined the sculpture curiously; it looked like a woman falling, a hand reaching up towards the ceiling. _Drift…_Ib read the title, her brow furrowing. If that was all that was in this room, then what was the point of it?

She walked towards the sculpture, stopping and staring at the woman curiously. She looked like she was floating down through water, her hair billowing around her and…a bubble visible just above her mouth. Ib leaned closer, narrowing her eyes…wait…was there something _inside_ the bubble? Hesitating for a few long minutes, she reached towards the bubble, tapping it gently. It disappeared with a loud pop, and a key dropped, hitting the ground at her feet.

Ib picked it up, staring at it for a few moments before turning and leaving the room. She stood still in the hallway for a few long minutes, her eyes narrowing a little. This all seemed a little…_too_ easy…And something was missing. Shaking her head, she walked to the other door and slid the key in, unlocking it. The key disappeared with a small sizzle, and Ib grabbed the doorknob and turned, slowly pushing the door open.

The next room was huge and dark, with only one light in the very center of the room, lighting up a small pedestal. Ib stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, pressing her back to it and staring for a few long minutes. There was something sitting on the pedestal, but she couldn't make out what…Taking a small breath, she walked forward, her steps echoing in the silence. _How big is this room…?_ She thought, looking around, but able to make out nothing else.

She stopped a little ways from the pedestal and narrowed her eyes, fiddling with the hem of her dress. She still couldn't make out what it was…odd…She walked forward again, stopping right in front of the pedestal. On it was a note; Ib picked it up and held it up to her face, squinting in the light to read what it said.

"…Have fun…?" She said, dropping the letter. There was a new item on the pedestal now, and, with a small gasp, Ib dropped the letter, stumbling backwards and falling onto her back.

It was a light blue vase, and, sitting inside of that…

Was a bright red rose.

_No…no…no, no this can't be happening…_Ib thought, staring at the rose with tears forming in her eyes. _I thought…I thought it was a joke…like I'd passed out, or something…fallen asleep…just a dream…please…please no…_Slowly she stood up, hands shaking, and reached forwards, pulling the rose out of the vase and holding it. Everything seemed to be the same…except for the rose having eight petals now, rather than five…

_Maybe…maybe this is a dream. Just a dream…maybe if I can find Garry, I'll wake up, back at my house, in my bed…_Ib nodded a little at the thought, wiping away a stray tear and tightening her grip on the rose. _I'll find Garry, and wake up…that's it, very simple._

The lights clicked on with a loud snapping noise, making Ib jump, and she looked around the room a little. It wasn't as big as she first thought, the ceiling hanging low and the walls only a few meters apart. A mannequin head sat in the far corner of the room, its face in the corner. A few pictures covered the walls here or there, one of them being 'The Lady in Red' and Ib shuddered, turning away from it.

Another door lay opposite of the one Ib entered, and she quickly ran over to it, relieved to find it unlocked, and slammed it shut behind her with a huff. The room was larger than the one before, filled with huge sculptures that almost reached the ceiling and expensive looking paintings. Ib stared ahead for a few long minutes, not moving, her mind blank.

_This…this isn't fake…it's real, isn't it?_ She thought, her gaze moving down to the rose clutched tightly in hand. Leaning against the door, she slid down to the floor, her shoulders sagging. She stared at the eight petals for a long time, void of all thoughts or motivation. An occasional memory flitted through her mind, pushed away and disappearing into the void…Suddenly she grabbed one of the petals, and plucked it off.

Pain seared through her as if she'd been stabbed and she doubled over with a gasp, holding her stomach tightly as she did so. She closed her eyes tightly, biting her tongue to keep from moaning, and fell to her side, wrapping her free arm around her knees.

_That…was a…horrible…idea…_She thought, managing to open her eyes after a few moments. She shakily sat up, staring at the petal in her hand, and dropped it, watching it float down to the ground idly. _But…that hurt more than I remember…Why…?_ She thought, furrowing her brow.

The sudden splat of paint puncturing the darkness made Ib yelp in alarm, jumping to her feet unsteadily and looking around. The wall next to her had a purple handprint, with writing just beside that. _Not so easy this time around, huh?_ Ib shook her head, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the floor again, pressing her forehead to her knees. _...No…_

More paint splats echoed around the room, but Ib didn't even twitch. She sat like that for a long time, staring at the rose in her hand, trying to figure out what was happening. _Maybe…maybe this is just one of those really…real feeling dreams, or something…I've had dreams about the Fabricated World before…who's to say I'm not having one now…? For all I know, I could be asleep in my room right now, and mom will be waking me up any moment…_

More time passed.

_Any second now…_

Nothing happened.

Ib reluctantly looked up, staring at the paint splats, reading the words blankly, but not comprehending what they said. Finally, standing up, she focused on the words, forcing herself to read them.

"_Welcome back to the Fabricated World, Ib._"

Ib's eyes watered and she tilted her head back, finally letting a small sob escape from her.

_It's real…I'm really back in the Fabricated World…_


	6. Chapter 6

**ANN: *casually brushes dust off of story* Oops I accidentally didn't upload for like three freaking months. I can't say I really have an excuse for not uploading; my summer was really full of me doing nothing but drawing all day .;; I guess my only...reasonable excuse was that I had some serious writers block with this and my other stories for a long time .-. Especially this one; it's hard trying to come up with puzzles and stuff for this story .;; And I'm really, REALLY sorry about making you guys wait...I really can't say that I have a schedule worked out for when I'll be able to update or work on something, but I will try...I promise! (Funny how I actually try to start all this once school is started and I'll have little time to work . )**

**Anyways, don't forget to R&R~! And thank you for putting up with me and being so patient! ^^;  
**

After many long moments of suppressing sobs and hiccups, Ib straightened herself up, looking around the room tiredly, not daring to move. _There was a way out last time…granted it took a while to get to, and there were a lot of puzzles…so there has to be a way out of here, right…?_ She thought, moving away from the wall and towards the closest sculpture. It was a maze, tilted up on its side so as to be viewed easily, with a small white mouse supposedly running towards the center, where a wedge of cheese waited to greet it. Hanging over the entrance to the cheese room, though, was a mousetrap, ready to be triggered as the mouse stepped into the room. _Inevitability._

Ib turned around, looking around the room. There were four doors on every the east and west walls, each of them a different color. _Red, green, blue, yellow, and…black?_ She took a step forward and looked over the doors slowly, staring at them intently. _Is this another puzzle?_ Ib reached forwards, grabbing the handle of the red door, and twisting it.

The door swung open effortlessly.

She stood there for a moment, contemplating whether it was trick or not, before slowly stepping inside, holding onto the rose tightly, hugging it to her chest. The room was very simple; red walls, red carpet, red ceiling, red light hanging from the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a small table, with a wooden 'E' on it. Ib stared at it for a few long minutes before walking forward and running her hand across the carving, her head snapping up and looking around worriedly. _Nothing yet…_

Slowly, she picked up the wooden 'E', turning it over and over in her hand and running her fingers across it again. _Maybe…maybe this is simpler than I think…_Ib walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, and looking around. Was…was there…No. She was imagining it. She had to be. Ib walked to the next door, the green one, and opened it. Again, the room was simple, with green floor, ceiling, walls, and light, and stepped inside, walking into the room a little bit.

This room was fairly big, with a 'Lady in Red' painting on the wall, and a few mannequin heads set in each corner of the room and along the northern wall. Again, in the middle of the room was a small table, this time with a wooden 'M' on it. _E and M…am I supposed to spell something with these letters? _Ib wondered, fiddling with the two letters. There were tons of words that came to mind that had these two letters in them…

A snarl from across the room made Ib snap her head up, eyes widening in fear. The Lady in Red, rather than hanging on the wall, was on the floor, her torso hanging out of the broken picture frame, eyes trained on Ib. She clawed her way towards Ib, who was too shocked to move, snarling through her toothy grin. Ib let out a small whimper, taking a step back and looking around. There was only one door…and the mannequin heads had moved closer! _What am I going to do?!_ Ib thought, biting her lip. The Lady in Red snarled again, much closer than before, clawed hands reaching up towards the rose held tightly in hand…

Ib slammed her hands into the table, knocking it forwards and making it fall onto its side, creating an obstacle in the Lady in Red's way. Grabbing the legs of the table, Ib ran towards the picture frame-woman, pushing her back towards the east wall, and running for the door, slamming it shut behind her with a huff. She leaned against the door heavily, biting her lip and suppressing a shudder as the Lady in Red's clawed hands raked down the door, and stepped away, turning to face the door again.

Another splatter of paint behind her made Ib turn.

_Not so easy, huh?_

"Oh shut up." Ib grumbled, looking at the two letters in hand. _E and M….E and M…._She looked around a little, her brow furrowed, staring at the letters and searching for possible answers. _Maybe…I should look for more letters first…_She started towards the next door, the Yellow door, setting her hand on the knob before stopping. She slowly turned and looked at the black door, thinking. She stepped towards that door instead, grabbing the handle and twisting.

Locked.

_Of course it's locked._ Ib sighed, turning back towards the yellow door, and slowly peeked inside, feeling her stomach drop as she looked inside. Rather than there being a Lady in Red picture, or a mannequin head, the walls were lined with headless statues, dressed in their red, yellow, and blue dresses. She stood like that for a few moments, hardly daring to breathe, watching them all with wide eyes before slamming the door shut and staring at the knob for a good few minutes.

_Oh my god…they're everywhere…_Ib thought, looking around nervously. There had to be another letter in that room, but…she couldn't go in there!

Slowly Ib turned towards the blue door, testing the knob and letting it swing open with a slam.

This room was completely empty.

Ib stared for a few long minutes, looking for anything; a discoloration on the wall, a spot where a picture might've been hanging up before…but nothing. Slowly Ib stepped into the doorway, looking around again. Above the door, behind the door, maybe there was a secret hallway, or…something? _Completely empty._ Ib stepped inside, looking around again, taking baby steps.

Ib's shoulders had just started to relax as she reached for the wooden letter 'R' on the floor when the door slammed shut, and the lights began to flicker. Ib flattened herself against the back wall, staring with wide eyes, looking for something, _anything_.

The sound of cold laughter echoing around her made her heart stop, and she tightened her grip on the rose again.

The lights flicked off, and she was thrown into complete darkness.

Ib sat still for a long time, slowly sweeping her gaze around the room before pulling away from the wall, keeping her fingertips on it. Maybe if she could just make her way to the door…

The lights flickered again, and she was greeted with the sight of Garry.

He stood in the middle of the room, his eyes trained on Ib, and the two stood still for a long time, watching each other.

"G…Garry…?" Ib whispered. She was terrified to make any noise, lest something hear them and come after them. The corner of Garry's mouth twitched into a small smile, and Ib felt herself relax, feeling a mixture of worry and happiness mixing in her stomach. Without hesitating she removed her hand from the wall and started to run towards Garry, tears pricking her eyes. She was just about to yell his name when she slowed to a stop, watching him with a confused look.

He'd lowered his head, his hair covering his eyes, and his shoulders were shaking…_He's _laughing?!Ib thought, taking a small step backwards. Why the heck would he be laughing, especially now that they were back _here_?! Ib jumped as he looked back up at her, still chuckling, and she suppressed a shiver. His eyes were dark now, a huge grin on his face.

"We've only just begun, Ib." He said, his voice echoing around the room. Ib had hardly even realized that the room had changed, and, though it was pitch black, she could very clearly see Garry and herself as if there was a light on somewhere.

Garry put his hand in his pocket, extracting a small pallet knife that made Ib stiffen. He continued laughing, a loud, raucous, chilling sound, putting the knife up to his throat with his huge grin on his face. His smile only grew as he dug the blade into his neck, and Ib shrieked, running towards him despite herself.

She'd hardly even taken a few steps before he pulled back sharply, the blade slicing effortlessly across his neck. He dropped the bloodstained knife, watching Ib with his huge grin, blood seeping from his neck onto his shirt and staining the once white color with deep red. Ib could only stare in horror, hardly able to move; it wasn't until he stumbled and fell forwards, reaching towards Ib's foot that she moved again, screeching and backpedaling so fast that she slammed her head into the wall and fell to the ground, her eyes shutting for the briefest moment.

And when she opened them again, the room was back to normal. At least, it was semi normal; rather than the blue walls and floor and lights, the room was all white. Garry was nowhere to be seen; there was no evidence that he was even there aside from Ib's memory. She didn't dare to move for a long time, hyperventilating on the floor of the room for a good long time before even pushing herself up into a more comfortable position, looking around with tears in her eyes.

_What…what was that…that…_Another paint splatter, and Ib looked up to see an arrow beside the door, pointing upwards. Ib slowly stood and walked towards it, rose held so tight the thorns dug into her hand painfully. The arrow pointed to a small plaque that wasn't there before, and Ib leaned closer and read it carefully.

'_Perception'_

Ib stared at the plaque for less than a heartbeat before she left the room quietly, her eyes still wide, heart still racing. She had hardly watched where she was going when she realized she was in the yellow room, grabbing the wooden 'D' and leaving without even giving the statues a second glance.

She stood just outside the door for a few seconds, listening to the statues inside shuffle around (when did they start moving? She hadn't realized…) before staring at the black door.

_Do I really want to continue…? _She thought dully, sinking to the floor once more and letting her rose-hand loosen a little. _Is it really worth it?_


End file.
